


crossroads

by porgthespacepenguin



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porgthespacepenguin/pseuds/porgthespacepenguin
Summary: Mirror!Stamets and Mirror!Lorca have a little chat and set about changing the future. As one does.





	crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> So this ficlet basically takes all of our wildest, craziest theories and tie them together with a neat little bow. Not to be taken too seriously, for obvious reasons. Kudos to @jhelenoftrek for coming up with the idea of the Emperor’s ship and its cloaking technology. 
> 
> Spoilers, obviously.

“Did you _know_?” Lorca growls, his voice rough with wild pain. “Did you know she would die?”

Lieutenant Commander Paul Stamets looks at him evenly. There is a phaser aimed at his forehead, but he is not afraid. He has seen this moment, many times, and it never results in his death.

Well, almost never.

“No,” Paul says, patiently. When Lorca doesn’t lower his phaser, he adds, “I told you, I can’t see everything. I would go mad.” A pause. “And this was not a likely scenario.”

“A likely sc–” Lorca snarls, takes a step forward, phaser suddenly powering up. “You son of a bitch!”

“I lost my Hugh, you know,” Paul says conversationally, pointedly ignoring the phaser aimed at a point between his eyes. “There is nothing you can do to me that could be worse.”

At that, Lorca’s furious facade cracks, then crumbles entirely, until all at once Paul is again left with a broken man mourning the loss of his wife.

“Phaser?” he asks, and if he sounds a tad impatient it’s definitely not because he feels bad for Lorca. He has put that part of himself on hold, until his mission is complete. Hugh deserves no less.

Slowly, Lorca lowers his phaser and steps away. There are tears running down Lorca’s cheeks, but Paul doesnt think he even realizes it.

“What happened to him?”

Paul blinks at the unexpected question. That, he hasn’t foreseen.

“He was executed for being a deviant,” he says simply. “So you see, I have as much reason as you to want this monstrosity of an Empire to go down in flames.”

“Yeah well,” Lorca says, bitterly. “We all saw how that went.” He closes his eyes. “We tried. We failed. It’s over.”

“Well, actually,” Paul starts, and suddenly Lorca’s eyes are trained on him, almost predatory.

“There might be a way,” he says carefully, licking his lips. “To fix things.”

“To save Michael?”

The naked hope in Lorca’s voice is almost more than Paul can bear, but if anything, he owes the man the truth.

“No,” he says, not unkindly. “The Michael you knew is gone. I’m sorry.” A pause. “Believe me, if it was possible I would have taken Hugh and just disappeared. This universe be damned.”

“I understand,” Lorca says hoarsely, and Paul knows that he does.

“There is still hope for this universe, mind you, but not a whole lot,” Paul explains. “I looked at many different possibilities, and the one we tried was the one most likely to succeed.”

“And look where it got us,” Lorca sneers, something like hatred in his eyes.

Paul doesn’t mind. He used to feel the same way, back when he still felt anything.

“Then I started… expanding my horizons,” he continues, wondering how best to approach the subject without sounding even more demented than usual. Lesser minds usually have trouble catching on.

“Meaning, you started looking at alternate universes,” Lorca says evenly.

That manages to shock a chuckle out of Paul.

“Impressive,” he says, and is fairly sure he manages not to sound too condescending.

“I may be a grunt, but my wife is–” Lorca stops himself, his voice catching. “Was, a quantum physicist.”

True. Paul feels a bit silly for having overlooked that little factoid.

“There is a universe surprisingly similar to ours, in terms of spacetime and development. Almost a mirror image. Except, they are the, how shall I put it, bright side of the coin.”

Lorca raises an eyebrow.

“Brighter than this hell hole? Consider me shocked,” he says, dryly.

“Laugh all you want. They managed to successfully unite almost all the galaxy into a peaceful federation, all while getting rid of need, hunger and want.”

“Almost?” Lorca points out immediately, because of course that’s what he would focus on. Damn soldiers and their one-track minds.

“Their Klingons are more interested in _dominating_ the galaxy.”  
  
“Sounds familiar.”

“And that, my dear Captain, is where you come in.”

Lorca just stares at him.

“Funny, I could have sworn you said that’s where I come in,” he says, looking at him like he has grown a second head.

“See, we need something from their universe,” Paul starts, holding up a hand to stop Lorca making more of a fool of himself than usual. “Specifically, their Discovery ship. Even more specifically, its spore drive.”

Lorca frowns.

“We have a spore drive,” he points out, not unreasonably. “More accurately, you do. You built the damn thing.”

That he did. Paul will never stop being proud of himself for that.

“Yes, yes,” Paul says impatiently, waving Lorca’s objections away. “But that’s not _all_ we need.”

“You’ve found a way to counter the cloaking tech,” Lorca says, blue eyes bright and intent.

Damn, the man is quick. Paul finds he likes that about him, to his surprise. He doesn’t wonder if they could have been friends; in other universes, he has seen that they are. He is starting to understand why.

“More accurately, they have,” Paul says. “Well, they _might_. With your help.”

“My help?” Lorca asks, with a huff of disbelief. “What could a lovely utopia like theirs need from a washed up Terran captain?”

“They’re going to lose the war,” Paul says with certainty, because this is one future that almost never varies.

“And you care?” Lorca asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t care about most things,” Paul counters. “Not since Hugh. So, no. But I will admit a certain partiality for their universe.” He shrugs. “More to the point, they only survive long enough to actually develop the tech if you get involved.”

“Is it that bad?”

“They are explorers, not soldiers,” Paul explains. “The Klingons will run roughshod over them within six months to a year.”

“What about me? The, ah, other me?”

“An excellent captain, by their standards, bit of a maverick in fact,” Paul answers. “But in most scenarios, his Buran gets blown up – pretty soon, actually – and he dies along with his crew. That’s where you come in.”

“You want me take his place,” Lorca says slowly.

“Obviously,” Paul sneers. “One of you running around is enough for any universe, trust me.”

“So I get my hands on Discovery. Which, I assume means you’ll be a giant pain in my neck in this other universe, too.”

“More or less, yes,” Paul says, unrepentant. “Though you’re going to have to push me. Him. He doesn’t complete the work in time otherwise.”

“I can do that,” Lorca says, with a predatory smile Paul doesn’t like at all. Oh well. That’s a problem for another day, another _him_.

“One more thing,” Paul says, bracing himself for another phaser attack. “You’re going to need Michael.” As Lorca’s eyes widens, Paul adds, “Their Michael, that is.”

“No,” comes Lorca’s immediate answer, though no phaser to the head, for which Paul is grateful. “Out of the question.”

“May I ask why?” Paul asks. Though he already knows the answer, it’s only polite to ask, as Hugh often reminded him.

“She’s suffered enough in _this_ hell of a universe,” Lorca snaps, baring his teeth. “You said their universe is wonderful. I won’t drag her back into another war.”

“There’s no _dragging_ to be done, I’m afraid,” Paul says, as gently as he remembers how. “She’s been sentenced to life in prison. Her future is full of misery.”

Lorca looks stunned, then distraught, before his mask comes back up and no emotion is left behind.

“And you know I would _never_ stand for that,” Lorca says after a long minute, sounding resigned. “Well played. Now tell me what happened.”

“She mutinied against her captain in a desperate bid to prevent a war,” Paul explains. “More than that, you don’t need to know. For now.”

There is a long moment where Lorca stays silent, his gaze faraway. Paul is familiar enough with him to know he is thinking, evaluating his offer, making up his mind.

This is the crossroad, the decision on which everything else hinges.

For a second the universe stands stills.

“So. Cross to another universe, get my hands on Discovery, badger you into perfecting the spore drive, break Michael out of prison, complete the cloaking algorithm, win the war, cross back here,” Lorca enumerates, making a show of counting off his fingers. “Did I miss anything?”

“Try not to die,” Paul replies, unimpressed.

“I’m already dead,” Lorca shrugs.

“Hmm,” Paul says, noncommittally. What he has seen come to pass, in many futures, will prove otherwise. But that is not Paul’s story to tell. Lorca isn’t ready yet.

And there is another Paul, out there, about to lose his Hugh, who will need _his_ help to stop it from happening.

For a second, Paul envies them their second chances. He squashes the feeling, ruthlessly, knowing that Hugh would not have approved.

They all have their roads to travel. And at the end of everything, all of Paul’s will lead him back to Hugh.

It’s only a matter of time, and space.

“So,” Paul says instead, smiling. “Ready to get to work?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://porgthespacepenguin.tumblr.com/


End file.
